


Black and Gold

by freddi11



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Missing Scene, Other, Prequel, definitely my headcanon and maybe hopefully yours as well, filling in gaps in canon, i don't know how true this is, stannis-related gaps in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 01:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18022598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddi11/pseuds/freddi11
Summary: the prompt for this one was "How did Stannis find out that Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella were not Robert's children?"More or less a missing scene.





	Black and Gold

“Lord Stannis, what can I do for you?” Petyr Baelish bowed, a mocking smile on his face. “Did His Grace send you here with a special demand? Or have you at last changed your mind about my establishment? In that case, let me select one of my finest maidens for…”

“There is no need for any of that, Baelish. I only wish to see the house. His Grace takes a great interest –“, it was all Stannis could do not to snort, “in your “establishment”, as you call it. He sent me to make sure all your maidens were well cared for.” _If he knew what my real intentions were, I doubt he would have agreed so easily. Robert has changed since he won the Iron Throne – and not for the better. It is high time we put an end to this most shameful “business.” If I find any proof that this brothel engages in illegal activities, I will bring it to the attention of the rest of the council. I am quite curious to see how Lord Littlefinger will react when he finds himself under threat._

“Then follow me, Lord Stannis.” The richest man in King’s Landing made a grand gesture of welcome and stepped aside so Stannis could enter the house.

The first thing he noticed about Petyr Baelish’s famous brothel was the almost impeccable cleanliness. Marble statues, small brass plates in which the whores’ names were engraved together with abbreviations Stannis could not decipher, a grand wooden staircase leading to the upper floors,.. everything shone with a splendour that spoke of a considerate businessman.

“I take great pride in the design of my establishment.” Petyr Baelish said, noticing Stannis’ look. “Of course, the girls do most of the cleaning. But I support them whenever I have the time. In my business, appearances are everything.” He led the way along a corridor decorated with several paintings – possibly Myrish, the graphic details on some of them spoke of the Free Cities – and paused at a smaller wooden door. “My girls can retreat here whenever they do not have customers to entertain. I offer them the highest comfort – it is a wearing job some days, so I know they value their free time and privacy.” _I wonder what he understands by “privacy”. Thank the gods that he cannot read my mind._

A sickly sweet smell – peaches? – wafted in from one of the windows. The brothel owner frowned. “I guess I have left the orchard unattended for too long. If you want to speak to the girls, Lord Stannis, they’re most likely to be in here at this time of day. Send His Grace my regards and tell him, the Mockingbird is always at his service.”

With these words, Petyr Baelish turned on the spot and left.

Stannis stood where he was for a while, lost in thoughts. _So far I have not seen anything incriminating. I still wonder where he found the gold dragons to pay for all the fine art he has so openly on display. They say he is not above accepting bribes for his “services”. But that is not enough to discredit Petyr Baelish. Half the court is involved in some corrupt activity. No, I have to find more conclusive evidence. Perhaps his “maidens” can tell me more?_

When he opened the door to the whores’ retreat, a warm breeze greeted him. A delicately ornated marble fountain stood in the center of the room, crystal clear water dancing about it like butterflies on a lawn. Heavy red velvet curtains shielded the room’s occupants from the afternoon sun.

 At first sight, everything seemed to be in order. There was fresh water to drink, a bowl full of ripe fruit,… The atmosphere reminded Stannis a bit of the orchard outside Storm’s End. But he should not let himself be distracted by the luxurious interior.

Most of the women were lying on small settees covered in exquisite red and white linen. One was sewing, two were busy giggling over a book they were reading. Their heads turned when they noticed the man in the doorway. “M’lord Baratheon! What an unexpected pleasure! How can we be of service?” one of them,  a slender red-haired girl with freckles asked and bowed deeply.

“His Grace sent me to ask if you require anything.” Stannis replied, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. The twenty or so young women facing him did not wear much apart from flowing pastel coloured linen dresses – dresses that did not leave much to the imagination of the casual observer..

“His Grace is most kind. Tell him we are treated well and we are enjoying spending time in his company.” the red-haired girl replied. “Would you like a peach, m’Lord? Master Baelish grows them in the orchard. They are most delicious.”

Despite himself, Stannis accepted. They had not exaggerated, those fruits were delightfully sweet.. “What are you reading?” he asked the two women– no, girls, they could not be a day over fifteen name days - in the corner . “Legends from our home of Lys. We do miss our families, but they’d be glad to see how well we’re doing for ourselves.” one answered.

Stannis was about to retort that there were other, more honourable trades for two young girls with an education, when the sound of a crying baby broke through the silence.

A blonde woman hurried over to the window, under which a small cradle stood sheltered from the heat. She picked up a healthy looking baby with black hair and – very familiar, Stannis thought surprised – dark blue eyes and softly rocked it in her arms.

“Yours, woman?” Stannis asked. “Yes, my little Alayne. She has almost passed three moons. Isn’t she delightful?” “Who takes care of her?” “All of us, m’lord. She’s got everything she needs, haven’t you, sweetheart?” The baby squeaked delightedly as her mother tickled her belly.

“That is all, ladies. I wish you a good day.” _Littlefinger is full of surprises. I would never have expected him to allow the whores to keep their children in the same house. But the girl seems well enough._ “Good day, m’ lord! We’re here if you require us!”

Out in the street, Stannis sat on a stone and wiped the sweat from his brow.  So far, so inconclusive. Either Petyr Baelish was even better at keeping secrets than they had imagined, or – Stannis laughed contemptously – he was really nothing more than a successful brothel owner. _I shall have to return another day, when he is not in the house. Maybe the women will speak to me more freely when their Master is not within earshot._

Yet there was something completely different that bothered Stannis – the baby girl in the cradle.

That eye colour was too familiar not to realise who the little girl’s father was. His royal brother had managed to produce yet another bastard. Gods know how many there were in the capital alone. _Perhaps it would have gone a different way if my brother had been able to marry Lyanna. It is quite clear why he seeks the company of other women._ For a moment, Stannis almost felt pity for Lady Cersei, Robert’s wife. _Theirs is a truly miserable marriage._

Slowly, he made his way back to the Red Keep.  Another bastard. If these children were ever found…

 

In the following weeks, Stannis was too occupied with his regular duties as Master of Ships to wonder about that incident in Petyr Baelish’s brothel.

Prince Joffrey’s twelfth name day was only a few weeks away and as usual, the Lannisters at court were doing everything to ensure the celebrations were worthy of their young prodigy. A parade of the ships, fireworks imported from Pentos,… If the members of the Small Council had any reservations about the costs of this lavish feast, they had long ago learned to keep it to themselves. The crown had to be severely in debt – but then, Queen Cersei’s relatives would rather enjoy that situation. King Robert had long since stopped feigning interest in his eldest son’s life, but even he knew better than to argue with his lady wife’s family.

The Small Council, presided as usual by an increasingly resentful Jon Arryn, had just finished discussing a long list of dishes to serve at Prince Joffrey’s name day banquet. Petyr Baelish was busy filling a parchment with calculations, presumably to figure out where he would find enough gold dragons to cover the extra costs for a six feet high name day cake. Renly – what else, Stannis thought grimly – was chatting with Varys, laughing at some jape Stannis suspected was aimed at him. As he often did in these weeks, he shared an exasperated look with Jon Arryn. _Fools. The lot of them. No wonder, my dear brother only attends his council meetings once a year. Otherwise he would have known how useless.. no, he would not. It is his dear youngest brother after all. And that eunuch – we do not know where he came from and least of all do we know about his true agenda._

If it had not been for Lord Arryn, Robert’s Hand and – over the past thirteen years – Stannis’ only ally on the council, Stannis would have considered resigning from his post. _It was Robert’s wisest decision to appoint Lord Jon as his hand. Between him and me, we are able to keep the realm at peace. Not that anyone ever thanks either of us for it. But what else can we do? Robert is much more of a warrior than a ruler. If he did not have our help, chaos would … Stop it, Stannis, you should pay attention to the meeting._

Making an effort to refocus, Stannis dipped the end of his goose quill into the inkpot in front of him. He had just begun a list of the decorations required for Prince Joffrey’s name day banquet in the Great Hall, when a comment from the far end of the table made him stop in bewilderment.

 “Could you please repeat what you said, Lord Varys?”

“I said to Lord Renly that it is a good thing Prince Joffrey did not inherit his father’s black hair. Imagine having to decorate the Great Hall all in black, that would be much more apt for a funeral!” the eunuch replied, smirking.

Stannis stopped in his tracks. _Not his father’s black hair. Not his father’s.. Does Varys want to say..?_

For the rest of the council meeting, Stannis was deep in thought, paying little attention to the discussions around him. The others did not seem to notice, used as they were to his quiet presence in the chamber. Something was desperately trying to get his attention.

While Petyr Baelish was finishing his calculations, Jon Arryn, who was writing the minutes of the council meeting, stopped for a moment to observe Robert’s second brother. Stannis seemed preoccupied, that was quite clear from the way a large blue vein was bulging in his brow. What could it be? Jon Arryn made a mental note to seek out Stannis for a quiet word after the meeting. He had long ago learned who he could trust…

“I think we will be able to fund yet another splendid name day feast for our beloved crown prince.” Petyr Baelish said, looking up from his parchment. “I have my sources, as all of you know. It is going to require some hard persuading, but one of them still owes me a favour. But it is dear Joffrey after all, so I am only glad to make an extra effort.”

“Excellent. That concludes today’s meeting. I wish you all a good day.” Jon Arryn said, putting his quill back on the delicate ivory stand in front of him.

As the members of the council got up to leave, he motioned Stannis aside. “Could I have a word later in the day, Lord Stannis?” Stannis –still struggling to identify what it was about Varys’ comment that worried him – was too surprised to answer for a moment. “How..?” “I know you. If it is anything serious, you had best share it with me.” “I will. After nightfall, our usual meeting spot?” “Agreed.”

Stannis spent the rest of the day at the docks, overseeing the maintenance works on the royal fleet. He increasingly enjoyed the chance to get out of the Keep, away from the prying eyes of his fellow council members and their spies. Everyone seemed to watch everyone else these days..

 

After supper, Stannis left as soon as he could. Nobody  wondered where he was going – both King and Queen were, for once, entirely focused on their youngest son, Prince Tommen, who had suffered a rather embarrassing accident during his daily riding lessons.

Only a few weeks after his arrival in King’s Landing, Stannis had discovered a secret passage leading from the hallway in front of the Great Hall to the top of the Watch Tower. The more difficult the situation at court became, the more often he had used it to get some privacy – or meet with Jon Arryn, the only person he could trust with his doubts about the Lannisters. The tower with its high battlements was one of the few places inside the Red Keep where they were sure nobody was watching them…

Jon Arryn stood next to one of the battlements, looking down at the lights of the city below. Stannis stepped up to him and they spent a few minutes in silence, listening to the myriads of sounds many feet underneath the tower. It was an unusually dark night, not a star was visible on the overcast sky.

“What is it you have on your mind, Lord Stannis?”  the Hand eventually asked. Stannis collected his thoughts before answering cautiously: “I am not entirely sure. But one of Varys’ comments at today’s council meeting has alarmed me more than usual.” “Which? The one about Littlefinger’s sources slowly running drier?” Stannis could not help smiling at Jon Arryn’s use of his nickname for the Master of Coins.

“No, not that one. What he said to Renly about Joffrey not having inherited his father’s black hair. I first put it down as one of the Spider’s usual extravagances. Yet there was something about that sentence that disquiets me. I had never thought of it before, but Joffrey..” “does not exactly look like a Baratheon, true.  With these green eyes and the almost golden hair, he can’t deny his mother is a Lannister. And for that matter, neither can the other two children.”

Stannis paused for a moment as an almost unreal thought occurred to him. “What if.. what if Robert is not Joffrey’s father?” he said in a quiet, slightly hoarse voice.The moment he had pronounced this sentence, Stannis felt as if the temperature had dropped several degrees.

Jon Arryn fixed him with deeply furrowed brows. The Hand’s face had turned almost as pale as the white cloak around his shoulders. “Between you and me, Lord Stannis – and you know I only voice these thoughts in your company – I had been wondering about the three children for a while. They are so blatantly unlike their father. Joffrey especially. Some days I have watched him practicing his swordfighting and wondered if he had anything in common with Robert.”

Stannis’mind was racing. “Could the Lannisters be behind it all? I would not put it past Lord Tywin to orchestrate such a monstrous treachery, if it is indeed one. They only reluctantly swore allegiance to our house, if you recall. If they had planned this all along, it would be the greatest possible insult on House Baratheon, on my brothers and even on myself.” he nearly whispered, struggling to keep his fury in check now he had begun to realise he could have found the truth.

_Stannis. Not everything is a conspiracy against yourself or your house. That Baratheon temper is dangerous when it is not calmed. At least I know how to deal with it._ Jon Arryn sighed inwardly before answering cautiously: “And what, pray, would Lord Tywin gain from such a conspiracy? I know the Lannisters are capable of a lot to secure their influence at court, but this would be too dishonourable for them, using Cersei als a pawn. They have already got half a Lannister as the crown prince. No, I personally believe that this is the Queen’s own doing, if she really committed adultery.”

“Cersei herself? But why?” “It is not the easiest lot, being married to a husband who openly prefers the company of whores. Some women would just put up with it without complaining, but Cersei is different.”

Stannis silently agreed. Robert knew no boundaries when it came to shaming his wife at court.  Their arguments often were so loud that he could understand every single word in his bedchamber three stories above. If there had ever been any affection between Cersei and his brother, it had died some years ago. Stannis had sometimes wondered how they had despite it all managed to produce three children.

“You do raise quite a good point, Lord Arryn. I am, however, still not entirely convinced that there is nobody involved in it apart from Cersei. She would have to be incredibly cautious to keep all of it a secret for the past thirteen years. A secret. At this court where everyone has their private spies.” He did not bother to hide the disgust in his voice. Jon Arryn knew all too well who he meant.

“We should look into the matter. Perhaps we are wrong and the children’s appearances are a simple coincidence of nature. Yet if not.. then we owe it to Robert to find out the truth.” the Hand replied. “And I owe it to my house. An insult to the Baratheon name shall not be unpunished. But where do we start?”

Jon Arryn was silent for a while. “There is something that could be of use.” “Do tell?”

“A book. I do not know the exact title, I have never looked into it myself. It is called something like “Histories and Descriptions of the Great Houses.” The Grand Maester keeps it in his library, to update the records on the ruling families. I remember watching him add a note about Tommen’s birth to that book  seven years ago.”

“I do not think we can ask Pycelle himself for it. For all we know, he could be telling everything directly to the Queen. But I could try to search for that book.”

“Then I suggest we meet here in three days’time. Good night, Lord Stannis.”

They shook hands and slowly climbed back down the stairs of the Tower.

 

Back in his bedchamber, Stannis ensured the door was safely locked before he sat down on the bed, burying his face in his hands. Sleep was impossible. Could this be the answer to all the strange incidents in the past fourteen years? But if so, were there others at court who knew about it? Perhaps Varys was one of them, that smirk suggested it.. Who was the real father of the three children, if not Robert?

His thoughts went back to the night of his wedding, the greatest fight he had ever had with Robert. Stannis could still see his brother’s amused, but somehow embarrassed expression when they had stumbled upon him and – what was her name – Delena Florent, copulating on the marital bed. Of course he had known his brother would go to great lengths to shame him, but this?

Stannis had struggled not to physically attack Robert. And as if the insult on his wedding night had not been great enough, a boy was born of that shameful union – a strong child with black hair and the blue eyes of the Baratheons, who was given the name Edric Storm.

Black hair and blue eyes? Stannis almost knocked over his bedside table in shock and surprise. Black hair and blue eyes – and definitely Robert’s son, he’d even officially acknowledged him as his bastard.  If so…

Another memory appeared before his mind’s eye – the woman in Littlefinger’s brothel, cradling her newborn baby girl. She’d had blonde, almost golden hair, her daughter’s hair… was of the darkest black. Maybe this was only a coincidence – the woman was baseborn after all. But what if a black-haired father and a blonde-haired mother always produced black-haired children? Stannis found himself missing the company of old Maester Cressen. He would have been able to sort out this situation in an instant..

_But I sent him to look after my wife and daughter. A maester’s loyalty is to the castle, not to the family living inside it. I am a member of my brother’s Small Council. It is my duty to solve this mystery on my own. My duty to my house and my brother. I shall find out the truth and ensure the person responsible for it is punished accordingly. Even if it is Cersei._ He angrily clenched his fists.

Perhaps that book Jon Arryn mentioned could be of some help. Written chronicles of the Great Houses – most of which had intermarried at least once in the past – with a detailled lineage and description.. Had there been a marriage between a Baratheon and a Lannister before? If yes, it would serve to prove – or disprove – their idea…

Stannis resolved to visit Maester Pycelle’s Library as soon as he could on the following day. Then he took out a candle and a scroll of parchment and wrote a short letter to his wife. _Hope this letter finds Shireen and you in good health. What about that sorceress from the East? Have you found out more about her? Things at court still more or less the same. Might return to Dragonstone sooner than planned._ If only Selyse was able to read between the lines.

 

The following morning, Stannis was on his way to the docks when suddenly a small boy almost crashed into him. “Lord Stannis, an urgent message from the Hand!” “What is it?” Stannis bent down to better understand what he was saying among all the shouts from the harbour workers. “The Hand wants you to meet him at the top of the Street of Steel in ten minutes. He said you would know why.”

_Do I?_ Stannis wondered while he gave the boy a half silver dragon for his efforts. _No, wait, I think I do. Has he found evidence for our suspicions? But why the Street of Steel? There are only craftsmen’s shops in this street, hardly an area Robert would.._

Jon Arryn was already waiting for Stannis when he arrived. “I spent most of last night wondering if I knew of any other of Robert’s bastards. And I believe I may have found one of them. Come!” Bewildered, Stannis followed the Hand into a large armoury made of timber and plaster. An ebony and weirwood carving of a hunting scene decorated the massive double doors. Two statues – a griffon and an unicorn in red suits of armour – guarded the entrance.

The craftsman, a tall, lean man with white hair and a short beard, bowed when he saw his two clients. “My lords, to what do I owe the pleasure? Does His Grace have a special demand for his son’s name day? I had my apprentice make some tourney helmets, perhaps the young prince would like them?” “We are not here on His Grace’s behalf, Master Mott.” Jon Arryn replied. “We just wish to see your apprentice.” “What’s the young scoundrel done now? Gendry!”

A muscular young boy of perhaps sixteen or seventeen name days appeared behind the forge. He wore nothing apart from a very dirty set of trousers and a large leather apron. “M’lords?” The young armourer put down his still glowing poker and stared at them with vague interest.

Stannis was at a loss for words. The boy was the absolute spitting image of Robert in his youth. How come they had never noticed him before? Tobho Mott’s armoury had made swords for the court for years, they had seen the young apprentice more than once.

“Do you like it here, young lad?” Jon Arryn asked. “Can’t complain.” Gendry’s expression gave nothing away. “Can’t complain? You don’t know what’s good for you, you spoilt brat!” his master hissed angrily.

“How did the boy come to you, Master Mott?” Stannis demanded. The armourer’s face screwed up in concentration. “As if I would ever forget that. Some foreign lord came knocking at my door one day. Had the lad with him. Said he’d pay me double the usual price if I takes him on as my apprentice. Strange man he was, all clad in silk so I couldn’t see his face.”

Stannis and Jon Arryn shared a look. Whoever that man was, had he known the truth about Gendry? Had he been acting on someone else’s orders to bring him here? Who had it been?

“Do you know anything about your mother, Gendry?” Stannis turned to the boy. “Not much, m’lord. All I knows is she died soon after I was born. They say she was pretty, my mum. With blonde hair and green eyes.”

It took all of Stannis’ resolve to keep calm. “Master Mott, take good care of that boy. And when the time comes when he would rather wield a sword than forge one, send him to me.” he said, hoping nobody would notice the unsteadiness of his voice.

They bade their farewells as quickly as possible. As soon as they were out of earshot, Jon Arryn turned to Stannis. “Impossible. If that boy is another one of Robert’s – and his mother had blonde hair….” Stannis did not want to finish the sentence. “How did you find out about him, by the way?” “I was discussing Joffrey’s name day presents with Renly. And suddenly I remembered the boy coming to the Keep with Tommen’s new riding helmet some weeks ago. Maybe it was because I hardly slept last night, but I saw him as clearly in my mind’s eye as if he’d been standing in front of me.”

“So what do we do next?” Stannis asked. “We need further evidence. I would suggest we go back to the Keep and attend to our duties, lest we draw unwanted attention to ourselves.” “I agree.”

They parted ways, deeply troubled by the events of the morning. Suddenly, the Hand turned back around to Stannis. “I just remembered something! Pycelle spends this evening in the Sept for his monthly confession and spiritual cleansing. He is taking Myrcella with him to further instruct her in the Faith. If you want to look for that chronicle, you had best do it tonight.”

Stannis thanked Jon Arryn and walked down the street towards the harbour.  Apart from the possibly threatening implications of their findings, an entirely new problem had occurred to him. How should they tell Robert about it all ? Stannis had a very clear idea how his brother would react if he’d heard of their suspicions. _He would not believe a single thing. He would think I hadmade the entire story up to make myself heir to the throne, that I was plotting to kill the children. If whatever is written in that old maester’s chronicle confirms Cersei’s adultery, Robert has to hear it from someone else than me. Someone whose word he actually trusts. Like his “surrogate father” Lord Arryn._

It was not until late in the evening that Stannis found time to visit Grand Maester Pycelle’s study . As usual, the small circular room was full of various herbs, drying on the ceiling or slowly cooking in a pot together with other suspicious ingredients.

While he strained his eyes to make out the writing on the numerous leather-bound volumes on the wall, Stannis found himself thinking about his own maester in Dragonstone. _Cressen has been a valuable servant of the house for many years. But he is not becoming any younger. His eyesight, as Selyse told me, is starting to be worryingly poor and he has become quite forgetful. I have to be tactful when I adress this, but we can’t keep him for much longer…  Could this be the one?_

Carefully, Stannis took an enormous dark red book from the shelf behind him and sat down at the maester’s working table.

Layers of dust had gathered on the hard leather cover which bore the sigil of the maesters’citadel in Oldtown. Ancient letters engraved below spelled the words: “Maester Malleon, Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, Together with Many Descriptions of High Lords And Noble Ladies and Their Children.”, only just decipherable underneath the dirt.     

With increasing dread about what he would find, Stannis flicked through page after page on the various illustrious members of Houses Umber, Martell, Mormont... until he at last came to the entries he wanted.

The bells of the great Sept chimed nine times. Stannis had no idea when Pycelle would return, but at this moment he had other, more pressing concerns. His eyes scanned name after name on the Lannister entry without finding anything conclusive… _Perhaps we were wrong. For all I know, House Lannister has never had much contact with our house. But if we don’t find any evidence, we are nowhere near to finding out the truth…_

A short entry in the middle of the sixteenth page, dating from around 90 years previously, suddenly caught his interest. “Tya Lannister, born 174 AL. Married Gowen Baratheon, third son of the Lord of Storm’s End, in 201 AL. One child, a healthy boy, black of hair.”

With almost feverish haste, Stannis read the reast of the entries. “Tyrek Lannister, born 159 AL. Married Joanna Baratheon, daughter of the Lord of Storm’s End, in 180 AL. Three daughters, two sons, all black of hair and blue eyes.”

Stannis almost dropped the chronicle in shock. Whenever a Lannister married a Baratheon – and twice was enough to support his argument – all their children were described as looking exactly the same as himself and his two brothers. Black of hair and dark – grey or blue – eyes. Exactly like Robert’s bastards. Edric, Gendry and Alayne. And Gods know how many more.

Robert had no trueborn children. His wife had betrayed him. When Robert died before the truth was made known in all of the realm, the throne would finally belong to the Lannisters. The king was in danger and with him, the future of the realm.

But who was the real father of the children? Both boys and the girl had golden hair and green eyes. Traits the old maester’s chronicle described as typical of the Lannisters. What if Queen Cersei had taken one of her relatives to bed? A shameful act Stannis would not put past her, not after what he had found out. Could it be..?

It had to be him. They were always remarkably close, sitting beside each other at banquets, often seen whispering together or laughing at some shared joke. A behaviour everyone at court had put down to them being twins. But perhaps there had always been more to it.

_We were so incredibly blind. All of us. Of course, nobody would have honestly considered the possibility of Cersei and Jaime…_

Slowly, Stannis got up to put the book back where he had found it. He was struggling to think well. When Robert found out, it would almost certainly lead to war. Unless Jon Arryn, the only man at his court he would listen to – occasionally, Stannis added, snorting with disgust – could persuade him otherwise. Open war with the Lannisters would almost certainly spell disaster. _Although, gods know, they have deserved it. It is about time we put them back in their rightful places,_ a darker, almost livid voice at the back of his head added. _We are not entirely without allies._

Robert would have to ask the High Septon for a separation in dishonour – if he had any sense left. He was still King, so Stannis had no doubt they would be able to find a new bride for him. One young and willing enough to bear him a legitimate son.

What should their next move be? Stannis almost regretted that he had not asked Jon Arryn to meet earlier.How should he act at court without alerting the Queen that he had found out her shameful secret?

 

“Lord Stannis, an urgent raven from the Capital!” Maester Cressen handed him an unusually short piece of parchment. _Could it be from Ned Stark? Has he finally managed to tell Robert? Coming from his best friend, my dear brother would probably accept the truth.._

Anxiously, Stannis unfolded the letter.

After he had finished reading, an eerie silence fell over the Chamber of the Painted Table.

“What is the matter, Lord Stannis?” Maester Cressen had not failed to notice how pale his lord had turned.

Slowly, Stannis looked up from the parchment. His hands were trembling violently.

“King Robert – my brother – is dead.”

_And so it begins._


End file.
